


Healing Words

by morganaDW (morgana07)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Bottom Sam Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied past Suicide attempts, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possible Spoilers, Protective Dean, Protective Dean Winchester, Tags May Change, Top Dean, Triggers, Worried Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-23 14:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13789650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morganaDW
Summary: 1 shot. After learning of Lucifer’s return, Sam’s memories and fears return and he makes some startling confessions that soon have Dean realizing it will take more than words to heal his brother from his fears & some surprising wounds that Dean hadn’t realized he’d been overlooking all this time which makes him face dark memories of his own





	Healing Words

**Author's Note:**

> Tagged To: 13x13 Devil’s Bargain
> 
> Warnings: Explicit content as well as language. This could include spoilers as well as some triggers so read the tags.
> 
> Spoilers: Possibly yes so if you haven’t watched this episode then be cautious.
> 
> Beta’d By: cyncitymojo
> 
> Author Note: This was set after 13x13 Devil’s Bargain and might include some minor spoilery things in passing so just be aware of this before reading. I tried to include tags but those don’t come easy so I did the best I could.

**Healing Him**

“He’s never going to go away. I’m never going to be free of him.”

Dean Winchester glanced over, squinting through the steam in the shower to see the outline of where his younger brother seemed to be leaning just inside the door to the bunker's shower room.

Ever since they returned to the bunker, Sam had been quiet and a little more withdrawn than was normal even for his moodier-than-usual younger brother. Dean knew why that was, but he also knew from years of experience when it was time to push Sam for answers or to push him to talk, and when it was best to let his brother make the choice of when he was ready to vent.

From the moment they'd learned that Lucifer had escaped the apocalypse world and was once again free on Earth, the hunter had noticed the slight change in Sam's mood as well as his body language. Dean had watched Sam from the corner of his eye in the motel room and had seen the moment his brother's body had tensed. His face went tight as well as a little paler the moment Lucifer first spoke as well as when the damn Devil had turned his gaze on Sam.

Dean knew the memories of Hell, of the Cage, and what Lucifer and Michael did to him weren't far from Sam's thoughts on any given day or night. He knew recently those memories were back on the surface and this latest encounter was bound to bring the worst of them back. He wasn't shocked that Sam would eventually search him out; he was just a little surprised and a lot worried about the near lack of tone in his little brother's voice when Sam spoke from just outside the shower.

“Yeah, you will be because this time when we lock his ass up somewhere we’re making sure to throw away the goddamn key in a bottomless hole someplace,” Dean replied but decided to hurry up with his shower since he had a hunch this wasn’t the right place for this talk. “Give me a second to finish up and we can talk if you want.”

“There’s nothing to talk about really. It just hit me tonight that it doesn’t matter what we do or how many times we think we’ve beaten him. Lucifer will never go away. He will never let me be free of him. I'll have to be dead and my bones burned probably before that would happen and even then, Billie and the damn Reapers will probably screw that up," Sam muttered, staring at his hands rather than up to where his brother's whole body had just gone rigid over his words. "I… I feel him tonight, Dean. I can't stop feeling him and hearing him and for the first time since Cas healed my mind… for the time since I thought I'd lost you to Purgatory… I-I want to die."

Dean's blood was starting to chill. Twisting the faucets off, he stepped back out of the steam while reaching for a towel. His blood had been going colder the more Sam talked, the more discouraged and depressed he sounded. The instant the last words were heard, Dean felt ice running through his veins and he realized this night might be worse than he'd been expecting.

Being tired and sore, Dean wasn’t sure quite how to go about calming Sam down much less offering support without making his brother feel like he wasn’t taking his concerns seriously. It was never good when Sam started talking about being dead or wanting to die. The older Winchester knew that was what he had to handle first.

“Sammy, I… oh shit!” Dean cursed when he realized in the time that it took him to shut the shower off, grab his towel, and step out that Sam had left the door. Forgetting about shaving or even dressing, Dean bolted out of the shower and up the hall while debating on where to start looking for Sam. He suddenly stopped, thought for another second and headed for his room.

For as long as Dean could remember whenever his brother was upset, hurt badly, or scared he would automatically go to someplace he felt safe. When they used to stay at Bobby Singer’s junkyard, that place for Sam was either deep within the junkyard or in the room they’d share. Sam would either curl on the bed farthest from the door or sit on the floor with his back to that bed.

When they’d be on the road, depending on how things were between them Sam would do the same in any motel room or he’d curl in the back seat of the Impala with his hand on the old, green, plastic Army man that had so often been replaced by Dean whenever he’d fixed or repaired the car.

That night, Dean didn’t think Sam would head for the Impala… yet. Ruling that option out as well as the library since Sam would want to avoid either Castiel or the visiting Prophet, Dean hoped his guess was right as he reached his room to push open the door and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he saw Sam sitting on the edge of the bed… farthest from the door.

Pushing the door closed, Dean flipped the lock and was immediately hit with huge, wet, and glassier-than-he-cared-for hazel eyes. “I locked the door more to keep anyone else out than to keep you in if you really want to leave, Sammy," he began in a calmer voice than Dean really felt like using once he got closer. His brother sat with an unopened bottle of Whiskey on the floor, his gun on the nightstand and the demon-killing blade as well as the old silver knife that their father had given to both of his sons on the bed near, too near, Sam's hand. "You know I'm not letting you do what you might be planning, right?" he asked tightly.

“Yeah, but it still doesn’t stop me from wanting to try if only to maybe stop the damn feelings again.” Sam glanced at the silver knife for a second before it and the other blade were moved across the room. “Did I ever tell you about the time during that whole Mystery Spot mess with Gabriel when I thought you were dead how many times I cut myself but never deep enough to die? Or how many times during the whole Apocalypse mess that I’d gone out into Bobby’s junkyard and shot myself or cut my wrists but never died?” He glanced over at his gun but then felt fingers on his face, turning it back to look at his now very concerned looking older brother.

“No, you never did but I think now you will be telling me about those times… later.” Dean didn’t think his nerves could take too much more right then and he figured talking Sam out of this funk was going to require all his concentration. “Sammy, you know that I’m not going to let Lucifer hurt you again. I will find some way to kill his ass dead if he tries or…”

“I know that. I know that you’ll do your best but Dean… it’s more than just protecting me physically and that’s what you, what no one, can understand.” Sam clenched his hands, but slowly forced one to relax as Dean reached for it. “Every time I see him, or I hear him it’s like every cut, every burn, every goddamn thing he did to me there is happening again and…” he paused to draw in a shaky breath while using his other hand to rub along his throat and the back of his neck as if feeling something there that wasn’t. “This time… he’s growing stronger again and if ever reaches full power… The only way we beat him the last time I was hyped on demon blood and let him possess me and he nearly killed you. He would have killed you if I…”

“Hey, look at me.” Dean could hear more fear as well as pain in Sam’s soft, ragged voice than he had in years and that’s how he knew his brother was truly upset. “Sammy, look at me,” he waited until slowly Sam shifted on the bed so their eyes could meet. “I knew the risks when I drove to Stull. I have said it once and I will say it a thousand times, if one of us is going out then the other will be right behind him or we don’t go out at all.

“Do I realize that this time, between Lucifer doing who the hell knows what now that he has his new little gal pal juicing him up, the whole issue with that other world’s Michael possibly invading this one, and whatever else the Southern Fried Colonel Sanders in Hell is planning, that we have a lot more on our plate than usual?” Dean decided to try to put as positive a spin on this mess as he could despite not really having a good plan against any of it. “Yeah, sure I do and I’m not ever going to tell you that Lucifer at any power level except empty isn’t someone to fear but I’m also going to tell you that nothing is going to happen to you so long as I’m alive and with you.”

Cocking his head slightly to the side, Sam watched his brother for a long moment before slowly nodding. He knew Dean meant what he said and even believed it. Sam also knew his brother would do anything to keep those promises to him. That was another fear Sam had since he understood what they both were willing to give up to save the other.

Swallowing tightly, the younger Winchester winced and went to reach up to touch his throat again only to have his hand caught and held while deep, green eyes stared at him questioningly. “It’s almost like I can feel everything again, De’n,” he whispered, unaware that he’d dropped a letter in his brother’s name much like he would have years ago. “I-I feel the collar tonight and it’s taking every ounce of strength I have not to take that blade and try to cut it off even though I know it’s not real.”

Dean had been lifting a hand up to gently touch Sam’s neck where he’d seen his brother reach before, but froze as soon as those words registered. “Collar?” he repeated tightly while also giving a brief thought that he really should have grabbed a pair of jeans since the more he heard right then was making him change his mind on how he’d originally planned to distract Sam.

Eyes sharp, Dean watched the way Sam tried to duck his head and avoid his stare but quickly caught his face between his palms to turn it back towards him. “He… Lucifer collared you in the Cage?” he asked tightly, refusing to allow the building rage he was suddenly starting to feel show on his face and possibly scare Sam more than he already seemed to be. “He collared you and you can still feel it? Is that a new thing or…?”

Unable to drop his head, Sam let his lashes lower to hide his eyes, so he didn’t have to see what he figured he’d soon see reflected in his brother’s eyes and on his face. A light brush of a thumb across his cheek made him open his eyes again to see that while Dean’s jaw was tight, his touch was still gentle.

"No, it's not new. I've been able to feel it and the other marks from the moment I woke up," he admitted softly, biting his bottom lip nervously. "While I was soulless, I used to notice that it would be more perceptible if Castiel was around or if I did or said something that Samuel didn't like or approve of. After I got my soul back, after everything that's been happening, I noticed it more if we were around certain angels or demons but definitely when I'm near Lucifer."

Sam paused to take a slow breath, fighting the feeling like he was almost choking and putting it off on his own mind playing tricks on him. “When we had to bring him here while he possessed Castiel it… he… ummm… shit, that hurts!" He suddenly had to stop talking when it felt to Sam like he was having a panic attack. He couldn't breathe because it felt like his throat was closing and it was all he could do not to freak out and worry his brother more than it looked like Dean was.

Closing his eyes when the bedroom and Dean's face started to spin, Sam tried to reassure his brother that he was fine, but it was hard when he knew it wasn't fine. In all the years that he'd been out of the Cage, this had only happened like this once before to this extreme, and it had been another time that he'd gone to confess things that had happened to him to his brother.

"Huh?" Sam had been so focused on breathing, on trying to make whatever felt like it was choking him to stop, that he wasn't even aware of when his back hit the bed, and a pillow was placed under his head. It was the sudden feel of a firm, yet familiar palm being placed flat in the center of his chest that forced the younger Winchester to open his eyes and realize his position on the bed had changed while Dean sat beside him. "D-De’n?”

“Close your eyes and try to relax, little brother. I’ve got you,” Dean was quick to reassure his brother while silently seething that he hadn’t seen the signs years ago, or maybe he had and just tried to ignore what they meant. “Sammy, I need you to listen to me,” he said once he saw how much Sam was struggling to breathe and suspected only half of that issue was due to the collar that he just realized Sam still wore. It was invisible to most, except for the wearer, the person or in this case the bastard former Archangel, and other angels or demons of high enough rank and who knew the spells involved. “Sammy! I know you’re scared but you need to try to calm down. Hold my hand and listen to my voice. This isn't Lucifer. It's the spell he used when he collared you. It has a hidden… an effect that makes it live, or like it was in the Cage if you try to speak about it."

Sam was having a hard time hearing Dean’s strong, soothing voice over the ringing in his own ears, but he was able to pick up bits and pieces of his brother’s comment. He understood what he seemed to be saying even if that actually scared him more than he already was. It was bad enough to Sam to know he had scars and marks on his body that his brother couldn't see even if Sam could, even if he knew other angels and demons like Castiel and Crowley could. The idea that any of those could have hidden little triggers, little possible time bombs so to speak made it ten times worse to the young hunter.

"Damn it! Sam!" Dean knew he had to act fast to try to calm Sam down, While usually, a simple touch from him would work, it was plain to see that this time the inability to breathe as well as whatever was now running through Sam's head was making him panic. He was closer to hyperventilating than Dean liked.

Several options ran through the hunter’s head. He quickly dismissed any that involved bringing anyone else into this, since he now feared that might make things worse for Sam. Pressing the palm of his hand down a little harder against the center of Sam’s chest and feeling the rapid beat of his brother’s heart told Dean he had one option left to calm Sam down enough that he might be able to try his other idea.

Sam wanted to listen to Dean. He wanted to calm down, but it was almost impossible now with it feeling like he had a five-hundred-pound elephant on his chest. He could still feel Dean's hand on his chest and wished he could reach a hand up to grab onto it just for a connection, but his arms felt too heavy to lift; another panic-inducing issue. As Sam listened to Dean talk about trusting him to take care of him, Sam felt the touch on his face a moment before he also felt soft, warm, plush lips covering his in a slow kiss that instantly brought his focus back to Dean.

Unable to do anything but lay still and struggle to force air into straining lungs, it felt to Sam like something was closing tighter around his throat. He thought he’d whimpered in a fear that he was unable to express to his brother when he felt Dean’s lips slide up closer to his ear and heard him whisper something softly.

"Shhh. Trust me, baby boy. Trust me and I'll take care of you. I'll make this stop," Dean whispered in Sam's ear so he'd be sure his brother might hear him even if he didn't understand fully. "Keep your eyes closed. Focus on me, on feeling me kiss you and not on the pain or the fears you're feeling," he added while silently hoping he could pull this off.

Normally, Sam had no trouble focusing on Dean when he kissed him. Sam had been focused on, and maybe a little obsessed with Dean’s lips and kissing him since he was fifteen and had come to the realization that he looked at his older brother as a lot more than merely his brother. Even as an adult, it was easy to lose himself in the feel of Dean’s mouth when he kissed him or when their tongues would play. Right then it was a lot harder, but as he felt the warmth of Dean’s lips trailing kisses down his jaw before sliding lower to begin kissing along his neck and throat, Sam swore he felt warmth like he never had before with each kiss or light touch of the tip of Dean’s tongue gliding along his throat.

Lifting his eyes to watch Sam’s face closely as if gauging his reaction to the kiss, Dean could see that his brother’s face was slowly starting to relax. It felt like his breathing while still heavy was starting to become easier each time Dean kissed his neck. Carding his fingers back through Sam’s hair, he took a moment to murmur something soft into Sam’s ear and waited until he saw the younger Winchester nod before returning his full attention to Sam’s neck. Making certain his brother’s eyes were closed, Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly while silently praying he could do what he wanted without causing Sam more pain or opening a can of worms that the hunter wasn’t ready to face yet.

Glancing toward his nightstand, Dean debated on pulling out something he’d buried there but as Sam once again tensed and started to shake he knew his time was limited.

Dean was angry with himself. In all the years since Sam had been free of the Cage, the nights when he'd curl up in Dean's arms after a nightmare, and finally when he started to reveal the truth of the brutal and often humiliating things done to him by both pissed off Archangels, it had never once clicked with Dean to ask or even look for himself if his brother had anything but emotional scars left behind.

Knowing about the scars he still had from his time in Hell that weren’t visible to the naked eye, Dean hated that he honestly hadn’t even thought that Sam wouldn’t have been luckier given who had been locked in the Cage with him. Wounds from either Hell or even Heaven weren’t visible to the naked, human eye unless the angel or demon in question allowed the wounds or other marks to stay visible. Dean knew his little brother still had a mark on the small of his back. That one had been left as a message to Dean by Zachariah when he’d been trying to force him to accept his role as Michael’s vessel.

Dean also knew to make wounds from either place visible wasn’t easy. Angels and demons, Heaven and Hell, both had their own languages as well as their own spells they used to mark, brand, or hurt a victim. It usually took knowing what language and then what spell was used to counter it, but in this case, Dean knew another way.

The easiest way for him would be to reach into the nightstand drawer and remove the item he’d been carrying since shortly after his return from Hell. That also required more time; time that Dean could tell he didn’t have if he didn’t want to risk Sam passing out from hyperventilating. Dean could almost feel as the invisible collar now tightened as whatever spell warding Lucifer included in it flared to life to prevent Sam from revealing anything else.

“This might hurt a little but trust me, little brother, if I can pull this off no one will ever use those marks or brands against you again,” Dean leaned up to press his lips against the center of Sam’s forehead as he reached to where he’d placed Sam’s silver knife earlier. “Keep your eyes closed, listen to my voice and don’t let anything else you feel, hear or remember scare you. I’m with you now and I’ll be with you forever.”

Sam had felt his throat start to close again and his chest was burning as he fought to breathe. His fingers gripping the comforter of Dean’s bed tightly, he forced one hand to let go when he felt Dean’s hand give a little tug on it. A sudden and unexpected pain on his palm nearly caused Sam to jerk it back in reflex but heard his brother’s deep voice telling him to relax, that the pain would stop and that he was sorry.

The unexpected apology nearly made Sam forget how much his head was spinning and force his eyes open to make sure this was really his brother. Sam knew it was rare for Dean to offer an apology unless something was wrong or one of them was dying.

The pain on his palm was soon replaced by a warmth that at first, Sam excused as the feel of Dean's palm touching his as their fingers meshed. He struggled to return the grip but was still too weak. Then the feeling began to move up his arm and his curiosity almost outweighed the risk of puking if he opened his eyes. A kiss to the hollow of his throat made him forget anything else at the moment other than to follow Dean’s earlier instructions.

Sam could hear Dean’s voice speaking to him between placing light kisses along his jaw and then over his throat. He shivered slightly with the gentle touch of a calloused fingertip tracing a pattern against his throat that was then followed by warm lips. Sam wasn’t aware fully that with each touch or kiss Dean gave that the tightness around his throat was easing, until with a gasp he was finally able to draw in his first deep breath in several minutes.

That was also when Sam began to feel the warmth that had started in his palm now seemed to be moving along his body. He was exhausted from struggling to breathe but the feel of Dean’s mouth and hand moving over his chest now made Sam fight the urge to sleep. An abrupt sear from his shoulder nearly had him jerking upright and only a swift, tight grip on his other shoulder and a low growl made him stay still.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice sounded tinny to his own ears but figured that might be normal for as long as he’d been gasping for air. The thing that wasn’t normal was when he finally started to focus more clearly and heard what sounded like banging on the bedroom door and his brother growling at Castiel to go the fuck away. “Dean, what’s…?”

“Dean! The energy in the bunker has changed dramatically over the last several minutes and is giving Donatello a migraine. He says he can’t place it but it’s not of this plain of existence!” Castiel’s deep gravelly voice was saying from outside the locked bedroom door. “What is going on in there?” he demanded with more concern now that he realized the door was also warded against angels and demons. “Normally when you and Sam have sex, dark magic that is even beyond what I’ve felt from Hell’s worst isn’t included and… what? Oh, yes, Sam and Dean regularly have sex. It’s nothing new for them,” he seemed to say as an afterthought.

Dean started to snarl about gutting interfering angels, and yell for Castiel to mind his own business while telling him that he knew what he was doing. A touch to his face made him freeze because it meant the next few moments could either break him or break Sam depending on how his brother handled what Dean hadn’t wanted him to ever learn about.

“If you open your eyes to look at me right now, what color will I see?” Sam asked as soon as he got over the urge to close his eyes again and pray that he was still asleep, or break into a shivering, sobbing mess if what he feared was happening actually was. “Dean? Please, look… look at me and… huh?”

Cursing himself for about the fiftieth time that night, Dean kept his hand where it was on Sam’s now shaking shoulder. He slowly lifted his head to release a shaky breath while opening the eyes that he’d closed to focus on the words of an ancient spell. He’d been repeating it inside his head rather than ever risk speaking it out loud while this close to his very sensitive younger brother.

Hearing the fear in Sam’s voice and feeling his brother shaking more, told Dean that Sam was afraid the demon that had once been in control after the Mark of Cain mess had once again taken hold. Lifting his head, Dean opened his eyes to meet Sam’s, and watched as Sam’s tired, pale face scrunched more in confusion when deep green gazed back. “If I swear on my car and my love for you that I will explain this as much as I can tonight, will you not freak out and trust me to finish this?” he asked tightly as the strain of doing the spell without the proper preparation was now starting to hit him more than he’d expected. “Sam, I swear I’m me and I swear you will not be hurt but… if I stop now…”

Staring at Dean’s eyes, Sam blinked a few times before looking down at the shoulder under Dean’s hand and suddenly thought he knew what was happening even if he didn’t know how. Nodding, he laid still but kept his gaze locked on his brother’s tightening face. “Can… can you see them?” he asked.

“Not at first. If I could have seen them they would have been off you the first chance I had after I got you back from being Robo-you,” Dean replied after a brief second of thoughtful silence, moving his hand off Sam’s shoulder and replacing it with his lips as if soothing whatever had just happened under his hand. “I should’ve known though, Sammy. I should’ve known you had more than scars left from the Cage. I should have done something or asked you or… I am so damn sorry you’ve had to deal with these goddamn brands and that damn collar all this time.”

“I never told you or brought it up because I knew you still felt guilty for not being able to stop me or help me sooner,” Sam murmured, lashes lowering enough to cover his eyes as he wasn’t sure he could still handle this or the raw emotions that were there if he had to look Dean in the eye. “I-I don’t always see them unless we encounter an angel or demon with enough power that it might bring the deeper brands on my back to the surface,” he admitted and could feel the heat from his brother’s gaze as Dean looked up. “How much is whatever you’re doing hurting you?” he decided to ask before starting to sit up and turn enough to allow Dean to see his back, hearing the low snarl and grinding teeth. “Dean? Are you removing or taking these marks?”

Green eyes went to hard slits the moment Sam shifted enough that Dean's gaze landed on his back. The massive array of old scar tissue could be seen as well as other marks. While it all turned the hunter's stomach as he imagined the agony Sam had to have gone through to get those, it was a scattering of other marks that brought Dean's temper nearly to the surface. He could clearly see two certain spellbinding marks that he'd been hoping he wouldn't.

Hearing Sam repeat his last question, Dean blew out a breath. "The collar I removed fully. The couple other brands on your shoulder and neck I… Yeah, it was the only way to remove them without doing the spell fully, the way I should have to start with. I took those onto myself with plans to remove them as soon as you were asleep, and I could go downstairs," he finally answered. He ignored the still banging angel at the door to catch Sam's face between his palms. He hadn't been thinking of Sam seeing the cut on his palm until his faster-than-he-gave-him-credit-for brother grabbed his wrist and wide, hazel eyes shot up in alarm. "Let me remove those on your back, Sammy?"

“Spell? Is that what Castiel is talking about, dark magic?” Sam countered, shivering as if cold and feeling a low burn go through his back. "Dean?"

"Lay on your stomach for me and I'll tell you about it," Dean realized the spell he'd cast to remove what he had wouldn't be strong enough to handle the mess of intricate, spellbinding marks on Sam's back and shoulders. "Just as soon as I get rid of the annoying angel at my door!" he growled as he decided to quickly pull on a pair of sleep pants for the moment before stalking over to yank open his door. "Go away or I will Holy Oil your ass out of here!"

"Dean, whatever you're doing is… how did you reveal…" Castiel had stopped in mid-sentence. Before he could start again only a shout from Sam kept Dean from using the angel blade he'd picked up out of habit.

"The fact that you were just about to ask me how I made those marks on my brother's body visible tells me you knew they were on him in the first goddamn place, Cas," Dean growled, fury building but burying it for the moment. "Go back and help Donatello translate that damn demon tablet. Stay away from my door and start thinking up a reason I shouldn't stab you in the face for knowing Sam had marks on him, had a goddamn, fucking collar on him from Lucifer and… Castiel? If I find any other bindings on him that point to you during that whole time you worked with Crowley and Samuel? You will burn. Bye!"

Slamming the door, Dean turned to see that Sam had turned to his side so he could watch him. "The spell I used tonight, the more advanced one I can use to remove or at least deactivate the ones on your back, so no one can ever hurt you with them again… Alastair taught me," he began slowly while walking back over to sit on the edge of the bed and opening the drawer on his nightstand to pull out a small engraved box. "It wasn't just torture and maiming lost souls that I was taught in those last ten years with him, Sam."

Propping his head on his hand, Sam glanced at the box before lifting his eyes to watch how nervous Dean now seemed, and guessed he was worried about his reaction. Rolling to his stomach again, Sam looked back to see that he had his brother’s attention and stretched his arm back so he could reach for Dean's hand. "Dean, I know you'd never do anything to hurt me. I also know you wouldn't ever bring anything from that time in here or around us if you thought it could be a threat. Do I like knowing that Alastair taught you dark magic powerful enough to give a Prophet a headache? No. Am I worried that whatever you do now could hurt you? Yeah, but I trust you. Tell me?"

Nodding, Dean opened the small box while Sam laid back on his stomach, but kept his head turned on the pillow where he could still watch his brother. Dean removed a small engraved knife and what looked like a small medallion.

“It was toward the final year I was his pupil…” Dean began slowly, staring at the knife as well as the medallion before placing the small round object in Sam’s hand. “Sammy, I know you still have questions about my time there and… I know you deserve to know everything but there are things I will never tell you. Not just because I’m ashamed of what happened to me, but because like you with the memories of Lucifer, the memories are still raw. I can’t handle those nightmares again on top of all of this other crap.

“The one thing I will tell you now, and probably the one thing I should have after I told you about those ten years I tortured people for him…” He paused to close his eyes, refusing to allow those memories to come back right then. “There was never a time when I wasn’t still caged and cut on even after I gave in to him. It was actually worse for me after I was taken off the rack because then Alastair’s abuse became a lot more… personal.”

Glancing at the item in his hand, Sam frowned because he thought he recognized it from some piece of old lore he’d read years earlier. Glancing back quickly as what his brother was saying started to gel, Sam started to open his mouth to speak but stopped with a touch of a finger to his lips and understood this was something Dean needed to get through. He also flipped open the blade that the box held, and Sam watched as it sliced down his brother’s palm with ease. The pain was plain on Dean’s face as he clenched his hand, the muscles in his jaw clenching.

Suddenly understanding the earlier pain on his palm, Sam noticed his palm was smooth as he held it back out to his silent brother. “It’s a blood spell?” he asked, wincing as the knife shook just enough to let the younger Winchester know how uneasy Dean was with him seeing this.

"It doesn't have to be to just do a simple deactivation of the spell inside the marks," Dean admitted, pausing while he went through a spell in his mind. He'd be dead before ever speaking that centuries-old dead language in front of his brother. "Alastair said the spells he taught me, the magic was older than Lucifer or Michael. He never really said why he chose me, out of any of his so-called pupils, to teach it to but when I asked him one time he only said that it might be useful to me. What he taught me, what was in the book, could be used against both angels and demons."

Sam had been listening while also feeling an odd type of burning under his skin that made him tense but he stayed still when he felt Dean’s hand spread over the small of his back. “B-book?” he asked, shivering as instead of heat he felt a coldness as a rush of memory hit of when that brand was burned into his skin by an enraged Lucifer. “Dean? What’s…?”

“Grip my hand and don’t fight the memories, Sammy,” Dean’s voice was tighter than normal as he focused on not only deactivating the still active brands but then slowly removing them. “To remove them fully, you might remember the events but there will be no pain, little brother. Just relax and let it all go, Sammy. Let me take it all.”

Sam understood what he meant and at first, tried to fight it. The last thing he ever wanted was Dean to take more emotional pain much less the physical kind that he knew his brother still dealt with, but with each mark, sigil, or brand that Dean removed it felt like weight as well as pain was lifting from Sam. He felt his body go limp; his limbs too heavy to move and his eyes suddenly needing to close, when all Sam wanted was to feel Dean beside him because as darkness moved in the younger man feared what the ultimate consequences of helping him that night might end up costing Dean.

Looking up quickly as soon as he felt Sam go limp, Dean quickly moved the hand that wasn’t still gripped by Sam to feel for a pulse and was relieved to feel it beating strongly and evenly. He watched Sam’s face as he finished the spell after moving his hand back over where he knew there had been a mark or crude spell brand burned into his brother’s flesh. He could see that while not all of them had been removed, the spells could no longer hurt Sam no matter who tried to bring them back to life and if Sam looked all he’d see would be faint marks where he’d once seen jagged scars.

Dean knew the other scars from the physical torture Sam suffered in the Cage as well as other times could also be removed if he had the time and strength but as a wave of nausea hit him, the hunter knew he’d pushed his luck. He had to stop now or risk leaving them both too weak.

Closing the spell softly, Dean spoke these words out loud. He knew Sam was sleeping and would sleep until his body was recharged. He knew he was about to crash as well, so he quickly said the finishing to the ancient spell and smirked a little as he heard something break from inside the bunker as well as a shout of surprise from the new Prophet in their midst.

Running his fingers back through Sam’s hair to push it off his face, Dean smiled as he saw that Sam appeared to be sleeping peacefully. “I love you, Sammy,” he whispered and leaned down to lightly kiss his brother. He pulled back with the intention of stepping out of the room to take another shower and rid himself of any excess dark energy he’d absorbed earlier only to nearly fall. “ _Sonuvabitch_!" he cursed but then threw another curse at the door when he heard a step. "Stay out."

"You can be stubborn if you want but if you don't have this power removed as well as the wounds you absorbed from him you'll become too sick to protect Sam when he really needs you," Castiel spoke from the door, a frown on his already usually stoic face as he became aware of exactly what the hunter had done. "Using that magic, those spells or whatever Alastair taught you before the Garrison freed you is dangerous for a human, Dean."

Pushing himself up until he could sit on the end of the bed, Dean scowled but finally nodded that the angel could enter. “Fine. Do your little finger to the forehead thing but don’t touch my brother or I will end you, Castiel,” he warned with the same growl in his voice that he’d always used when warning people away from Sam.

“Very well,” Castiel touched the tip of his finger against the hunter’s forehead. He wasn’t as strong as he once had been, and it took a great deal more energy than he’d anticipated removing the dark energy left over from the spells used on Sam and the carryover wounds Dean had taken in his need to help his brother. The angel watched as Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell back on the bed as he passed out.

Knowing better from other times not to get any closer now to the side of the bed where Sam slept, Castiel watched both Winchesters for another moment to be sure they were sleeping well. He stepped out and closed the door behind him to go keep Donatello supplied with chicken wings. He wondered what other secrets Dean might still hold from his time in Hell and how those secrets might help or hurt the Winchesters now.

***

Waking up with a groan, Sam Winchester felt as he had at 14 when he had gotten seriously drunk for the first time. His head felt like it might fall off his shoulders and his entire body felt like it had been slammed into a wall; of course, as he recalled it actually had.

Flashes of memories started hitting the hunter and the last thing Sam recalled was being with Dean and trying to watch as his brother removed the marks and bindings left behind from the Cage. Sam’s eyes snapped open only to slam them back shut with a string of curses before he heard a low chuckle from beside him and immediately felt better.

“I guess I don’t have to worry about you suffering any lasting damage from the other day then?”

Opening his eyes slower this time, Sam turned his head to see Dean was laying on his side with his head propped on one hand while his other was slowly tracing familiar sigils from their childhood over Sam’s chest. Blinking a few times to clear his eyes, Sam noticed that his brother’s face looked more worried than tired and suspected he’d slept a lot longer than he first thought he had.

"Hey," he murmured, voice sounding rougher than usual which also told Sam that he'd recently been sleeping a lot longer than he had been. "Okay?"

“I’ll know if you’re okay if you start to give me more than one-word answers, little brother,” Dean replied but then smiled when Sam’s eyes narrowed into one of his smaller bitch faces while reaching up to place a hand on Dean’s chest as if to indicate who he’d been asking about, and Dean nodded. “I’m tired and I probably won’t be pulling that box or anything else from that time out anytime soon or unless I have to for you but yeah, I’m okay, Sammy.”

Thinking about what he’d heard from Dean this time, what he’d learned, Sam wondered about something he’d heard his brother say before he passed out. “Is there a book?” he asked, yawning as he tried to shake the last of the cobwebs loose from his brain.

"Leave it to my big-brained little brother to remember me mentioning a book," Dean smirked but while he had wished Sam wouldn't have recalled him saying that he also wasn't surprised that he had. "Give me a day or so, let me think about some of this stuff and then I'll show you the book that Alastair gave me," he said while reaching a hand up to stroke over Sam's face in a gesture he'd only do with Sam now and only when they were alone. "I still can't give you all of the answers that you might want, Sam. I'm not ready yet but…"

"But you will when you can. I know that Dean," Sam did know that, and he also understood why his brother still wasn't ready to talk about those years of torture and pain he'd endured or what else had happened to him in Hell. "I just want to be able to help you heal like you've helped me to heal."

“You have helped me, baby boy,” Dean murmured, lips curving more at the small soft smile that Sam still got whenever he used the one nickname that only he used for Sam and only when they were intimate. “Trust me, Sam. Despite all the crap we went through back then, I survived Hell and getting out of Hell because of you,” he added while leaning closer so their lips could brush once, twice in a soft, almost playful kiss before Dean felt Sam roll towards him and knew what his brother wanted. “Shower, food, or sex, little brother?” he asked teasingly because Dean knew the order in which Sam would take those three things.

“Sex now, shower later, and maybe food later,” Sam replied instantly. Meeting Dean’s next kiss fully and with as much need and want as he could feel his brother was desiring, Sam’s back hit the bed when he was rolled over so Dean could lever himself over him. “Hey, did I hear Castiel tell Donatello that we have sex and it was normal for us?” he asked since that thought was annoying him but not as much as Dean’s sudden smirk did when Sam groaned.

“Yeah, so we might be avoiding the two of them in between showering, finding food and more sex if you want it,” Dean smiled down into clear but quickly darkening hazel eyes as Sam looked up at him as if surprised.

“Dude, I’ve been wanting sex with you since I was fifteen. The day I refuse it or don’t look like I want it then I’d better be bleeding out, sicker than a dog or you’d better be reaching for some silver or Holy water to make sure I’m me,” Sam replied with a snort, letting his eyes move down to watch as his brother began kissing his way down his chest. “You do know I’ll never stop being afraid of Lucifer, right?” he asked in a softer voice.

Dean paused in teasing a hardening little nub on Sam's chest to lift his eyes. "Yeah, I know that Sammy," he replied but stretched up to kiss Sam's lips lightly at first before drawing a plush bottom lip into his mouth to suck on it until he got the soft moan he'd been looking for. "Just like you know that I will protect you from him no matter what, right?”

“Yeah, I know, Dean,” Sam murmured and then lost himself in the heat of his brother’s next kiss as the desire for more soon built for both Winchesters. “Dean…”

Nodding, the older Winchester slipped off the bed long enough to shed his sleep pants while also making short work of the pair he’d slipped on Sam while his brother had been sleeping. He counted down in his head the time it took to sink in his brother’s mind about the change.

“Dean, how long was I sleeping?” Sam demanded but then decided that maybe he didn’t care as his body arched up at the feel of Dean’s fingers feathering down his already half stiff cock. “Never mind. I’ll ask again later,” he muttered.

“Shut up and get up on your knees, smart ass,” Dean shot back with a little more of a fake growl to his voice while letting his smile soften as soon as Sam went to quickly follow instructions. It never failed to amaze the hunter how damn lucky he still was to have Sam with him given all the pain and heartache they had both suffered in their lives and despite how many people had tried to tear them apart.

Sam had moved to his knees, leaning his arms on his brother's headboard but glanced back to frown with concern. He noticed Dean was just watching him with a look that Sam hadn't seen in a long time; the one that meant Dean was thinking too hard about the bad times where they'd nearly lost each other for one reason or another.

Sam also figured him admitting to his brother that he’d wanted to die rather than risk the pain and fear Lucifer still caused him hadn’t helped his brother’s concern and over-thinking. He reached back until he felt his fingers brush Dean’s arm and saw his brother blink before looking right at him.

"I'm still here, Dean," Sam murmured lowly, swallowing a sudden lump that appeared in his throat. He watched Dean's face lose some of the distracted concern it had, to focus on him with a searing deep gaze that had turned Sam's legs to jelly and his blood to lava at sixteen. "You were there for me like I know you always will be. Let me be here for you now?" he asked while holding out his hand and waiting.

Grasping the hand that Sam held out, it took Dean a second or two to shake the sudden rush of emotion that had threatened to overwhelm him. “Together or not at all,” he said in a voice that was deeper, heavier with raw emotions as he knelt back on the bed after grabbing a bottle out of the nightstand. “I love you, Sammy.”

It never failed to hit Sam hard whenever his brother actually said those last words but this time he'd also been hit by the others. Sam understood what they meant and gave a tight nod before leaning back so his head leaned on Dean's shoulder. "You could skip the prep this time," he offered and was quick to hide his smile at the comment that earned him since they both knew Dean would never have any type of sex with him if there wasn't prep involved.

Distracting Sam by running his mouth and teeth along Sam’s jaw, down the length of Sam’s neck until he got to the spot between his brother’s neck and shoulder, Dean smiled when he heard his brother’s soft moans get a little louder with each kiss or light bite. He knew from years of experience was one of a few spots on Sam that he was especially sensitive.

Because it had been a day and a half that Sam had slept, he’d gained enough of a scruff that it rubbed Dean’s face as he kissed him. While Dean enjoyed teasing his brother about it, he also couldn’t deny that he also enjoyed the rough feel on his skin, under his lips, and against his tongue as he kissed Sam while working lube-slicked fingers slowly into the puckered hole of Sam’s ass, past the first ring of muscle, one at a time.

Listening to the sounds Sam made as Dean stretched his hole and teased him with hot kisses and fingers that knew just where to touch Sam on his chest to keep him distracted, Dean was having to remind himself there was a reason he was doing this. By then his own cock was dripping and ready to be encased in tight heat but still Dean held off until he could move three fingers fairly easily inside.

"Dean!" Sam's blood was on fire and his cock was red, engorged and dripping a steady stream of pre-come now. He struggled not to push back against those well-skilled fingers in order to get them where he desperately wanted, needed something of Dean's to be and soon. "I-I need… I want to feel you! I'll wash the Impala for a goddamn year if you just forget stretching me and stick your dick in my ass right goddamn fucking… mmhm!”

Strong fingers suddenly caught a handful of thick dark hair to give a sharp yank and Sam’s head was pulled back to an angle that allowed his brother’s mouth to claim his in a searing, hard kiss that held passion, desire but also something that, in the back of his lust filled mind, Sam knew was Dean’s way of warning him to settle down.

Dean was fighting his own burning need to claim and understood that it wouldn't take either of them long this time, but he still worked to control Sam until he felt his brother slowly starting to relax back against his chest. Only then did Dean soften the kiss, teasing Sam's lips with his tongue until he felt them part on a sigh of pleasure and need and letting his tongue slip inside to explore.

By the time Dean broke the kiss so they could both breathe, he saw only a thin ring of color left in Sam's eyes as his younger brother looked back at him. "You can come whenever you want to, Sammy," he whispered against Sam's ear while using another handful of lube to his already well-slicked cock. Before placing the mushroom tip against Sam's ass, he heard the string of mumbled words that were part plea and also a few threats if Dean didn't hurry up.

“Bossy, baby boy,” he chuckled and caught the bottom of Sam’s earlobe with his teeth. At the same time, he gave a solid thrust after having been making smaller, more shallow ones to make sure Sam was loose enough to take him. "What else are you though, Sam?" Dean suddenly demanded in a tone that was gruff, deeper than usual. His fingers claimed another handful of hair but making sure this time his fingertips touched the surface of Sam’s scalp; another little kink he’d learned his brother had. “Sam? What else are you?”

“Yours!” Sam had known what Dean wanted to hear but had bit his lip to stall the answer until he felt fingers raking over his scalp to give a pull of his hair that was just enough to sting but not cause him any real pain. “I’m yours!”

“That’s my boy,” Dean whispered and gave a final solid thrust that brought them flush and also took his cock right up against Sam’s prostate. “Come for me, Sammy.”

Sam didn’t need any other encouragement really since he’d felt his balls tightening with each thrust Dean made. It was finally feeling the solid strike to his prostate and the hot breath on his ear as Dean whispered those final words that had him coming with a shout of his brother’s name. Soon, he felt hot come hitting his stomach as he came without either his hand or even Dean’s touching him.

Dean heard the shout, felt Sam’s inner muscles clamping down on his cock and held back his own climax for another few thrusts so he could give this time to Sam. He reached around to grasp Sam’s cock and give it a few strokes from base to tip as he helped his brother work through his orgasm.

It was only when Dean felt Sam leaning back more against his chest that he gave in to his own need and with another solid thrust and fell over that cliff with a shout of his own.

The next several moments were silent in the bedroom, except for the sounds of flesh on flesh and softly murmured words of love and promises that were only between these two and would never leave this room.

Sam’s could feel his strength leaving him but he still struggled to meet his brother’s slowing thrusts. His cock had become too sensitive to touch but before he could say anything he felt Dean’s hand ease away as if his brother had already known when it was time to let go.

Dropping his head back, Sam’s turned his head and was met with a softer, slower kiss that held the love and deeper emotions that he knew Dean might never be able to express vocally but would always find ways to show him.

“Love you,” he whispered a second before Sam felt a wave of bliss overtake him and let that pull him under while hearing Dean’s soft reply.

Dean felt Sam’s body go limp, saw a flash of white as his eyes rolled back and was quick to shift his arm around Sam so he could hold him back to him. While also supporting both of their weights, he finished his own orgasm before carefully shifting so he could ease them both to their sides on the bed. Then he just laid still to allow his body to cool and his breathing to regulate.

It was these moments, these first few seconds after they’d made love and Sam usually passed out for a minute, or ten, that Dean enjoyed. It gave him a chance to watch Sam sleep and look young and peaceful like he had years ago when neither of them had the worries, the pain, or the problems that plagued them these days.

Carding shaking fingers back through sweat-soaked hair so he could see all of Sam's face Dean's smile was softer, more at ease than he showed outwardly, while now watching Sam's small sexed-out smile. "I love you too, Sammy," he whispered, ghosting soft kisses on Sam's face before slowly easing out and already missing the connection that was between them when they made love.

“Yeah, I’m going to hold you as soon as I clean up a bit or else you’ll have more to explain to that Prophet than us having sex,” Dean laughed while he avoided long arms that never failed to reach out sleepily for him the moment Sam sensed he was no longer with him. “Damn kid couldn’t reach a hex bag the other day but still manages to snag me,” he laughed after using a t-shirt that had been on the floor to wipe them both off as Sam’s fingers latched onto his wrist to give a tug with a grumpy mutter that brought Dean back onto the bed. “Remind me to mention sometime that you can be a bossy, clingy octopus, little brother.”

Only once Dean was settled back on the bed with his arms wrapped around him did Sam seem to settle back into sleep with his head tucked under Dean’s chin much like he’d slept as a child when they’d shared a bed or in the back of the Impala.

Lying still, Dean debated on closing his eyes and trying to sleep more but he decided to stay awake to watch Sam sleep for a bit longer since he wasn’t sure how much time they’d catch in between new disasters to have this quiet time between them and also because it relaxed Dean to see Sam sleep without waking up afraid or tense.

Knowing that Lucifer was out there still and also growing stronger day by day worried Dean. He knew as well as the Devil did that they were still his biggest worry and that he would come after them eventually if only to try to hurt Sam. "I will keep you safe, Sam," he murmured while glancing towards his closet where a book sat hidden in a lead box that he decided he would show Sam soon. He was hoping his big-brained, super smart little brother might be able to make sense of it since he'd never been able to read it except for bits about an Archangel blade and needing an actual Archangel in order to kill the goddamn Devil.

**The End**


End file.
